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Grundy’s tonight,” he said. “They’re supposed to be pretty good. Want to meet up?”
    This invitation was as surprising as the first one. It wasn’t unusual for Echoes to mimic each other, if their branches were close enough. And just like in Park World, I had a million reasons to say no. But sometimes the best decisions are the ones made on instinct and impulse. Sometimes a choice isn’t a simple yes or no, but the truth made visible, strong enough to hold up a world.
    I wasn’t sure I was ready for that kind of truth.
    The bell over the bakery door jingled and Monty appeared, long john in one hand, coffee in the other, a cruller clamped between his teeth. “I have to go.”
    Probably not the reaction Simon usually got when he asked a girl out. His forehead wrinkled. “Is that a yes?”
    I bit my lip. “It’s a maybe. Bye, Iggy. Stay out of trouble.”
    Grabbing Monty’s arm, I steered him back toward the pivot.
    â€œMaking friends?” Monty asked around his cruller. His gaze, sharper than usual, followed Simon and Iggy as they crossed the street and climbed into a battered black Jeep.
    â€œSimon Lane. He’s a guy from school.” I checked my watch. Eliot would be arriving at my house soon.
    â€œSimon,” Monty said. “Wasn’t he the boy—”
    â€œFrom the cleaving,” I finished. “Yeah.”
    He nodded, obviously pleased with himself for remembering. The walk back to the Key World was fast and easy. We turned onto our block as Eliot pulled up in his mom’s Subaru, parking in Addie’s usual spot. She was typically back from her apprenticeship by now—she would arrive home a few minutes before Eliot and I left for training, offer advice we hadn’t askedfor, and then go inside to finish up her day’s paperwork.
    â€œWhere’s Addie?” I asked.
    Monty licked a bit of frosting from his thumb. “Your mother said she was meeting with the Consort.”
    â€œBy herself?” That didn’t make sense. Mom had been adamant I not see the Consort alone. Why would Addie be any different?
    â€œSeems so.”
    If Addie could deal with the Consort by herself, I could too. “Can you get in by yourself? You won’t wander off?”
    â€œDon’t worry about me,” he said, patting my hand. “Now go on, before your mother catches you.”
    I kissed his cheek and ran for Eliot’s car as Monty ambled around the side of the house.
    â€œGo!” I said, throwing my bag onto the seat and sliding inside.
    â€œHello to you, too. Is there a problem?” Eliot asked.
    â€œNot unless my mom catches us. Drive, will you? I want to make the early train.”
    â€œSeat belt,” he replied, shifting into reverse. “I feel like I’m driving a getaway car.”
    â€œThen act like it.” As we pulled away, my mom stepped onto the front porch, hands on hips.
    â€œDelancey!” The shout was faint, but I was sure she’d make up for it later.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    While Walkers share the Key World with Originals, we occupy very different spheres. Casual acquaintances and business interactions are acceptable, but strong attachments are discouraged.
    Most importantly, revealing the existence and abilities of Walkers is strictly forbidden. Originals cannot understand the scope of our responsibilities and would seek to take advantage of both us and the multiverse, resulting in disaster.
    â€”Chapter Ten, “Ethics and Governance,”
    Principles and Practices of Cleaving, Year Five
    E LIOT AND I had been coming to the Consort Building for years—as little kids on family outings, and later as eleven-year-olds beginning our training, dropped off by his mom or mine. Eventually we’d graduated to taking the train on our own, once they trusted us not to wander through the pivots riddling Union Station. Class met four times a week, and I learned more in a